You, Fred Weasley
by HollyPhoenix07
Summary: This story contains the entire Weasley family as well as Harry and Hermione. It consists of relatively short blubls or what life is like without Fred Weasley, and how the characters respond to his death.


Arthur Weasley

It didn't feel right going back to the Ministry so quickly after you'd gone. As I Apparated to work to aid Kingsley and the others in catching possible Death Eaters who were now on the run, and I experienced that lung-crushing feeling and sharp tug around my navel, I thought maybe I should just stay like this forever, for it truly wasn't much better than contemplating a life without you. Losing a son—an unfathomable circumstance— was never one I completely grappled with. Even as the second war dawned nearer, and security became a luxury most were unable to afford, I never really came to terms with what it would mean to lose a son—to lose you.

There's always an empty chair at the dinner table now, and though the extra few helpings of food are good for us financially, no one's yet been able to lay claim to what would have been yours, and the food ends up uneaten away.

I've come to hate that clock perched in our sitting room, with all of its hands pointing toward work, or traveling, or in instances when we are all there, home. Expect we're not all home, for you, Fred are not there, livening up the space with your jokes, or driving your Mother mad with your trick wands… I hate that clock for its one hand—the one with your picture on it, which will forevermore be directed toward lost.

Percy Weasley

I was the one who saw you die. I was the one who watched in horror as the wall came crumbling down. I was the one who shook you while you laid there; stiff and unfeeling, thinking maybe this was just another one of your cruel jokes. But the immobile smile on you face never erupted into a raucous peel of laughter like I'd expected to, and all too soon I was forced to believe what I'd never thought possible.

I chased after Rookwood with a vengeance, filled with that poisonous desire to inflict pain and loss, and above all murder. Looking back, I think that was the oddest thing, because wasn't that what this war was all was about? Weren't we all trying to destroy the dark, decaying ideas of oppression and suffering? Weren't we all, even You Know Who himself, trying to destroy death?

Our way was more honorable, of course, for we chose to fight for love and not power. But I hadn't always been on that side. That's been my biggest regret. For being blinded by the desire to control something when I didn't have the slightest idea of what the cost of what that kind of power would be. You said it best Fred, I was a "Ministry-loving, family-disowning, power-hungry moron," and for that I will always be sorry.

I will always be thankful for the way you welcomed me back into the family, Fred. I would have expected you and George to hold out the longest, but I'm glad I got those last few minutes before—

I'm sorry Fred. I'm so truly sorry.

Charlie Weasley

I'd always known that my love of dragons would set me apart of the rest of the family, but never this much. With me in Romania working with Norberta and various other breeds of dragon, the amount of time I spent with the rest of you at the Burrow was limited, but somehow even after the threats of war became more realistic, I never once contemplated what it would be like to return to the Burrow, knowing that one of my brother's would not be there. And it wasn't like I could just pretend you were out working or de- genome the garden, because George was there, and I can't ever recollect a time in my life when George hadn't been within inches of you.

I blame myself for not spending more time with the family when I had the chance. Mum sent me dozens of letters throughout the holidays telling me to come and visit, that you guys would be glad to see me. Now that you're not there, I look for excuses to stay away, even though I know I should be there for Mum and Dad, and Ginny, and especially George. But the thing is, I don't ever want to step foot into the Burrow knowing you will not be there, for even with all the other bodies roaming around in it, the absence of your laugh, I know, will make it seem uncommonly empty.

It's cowardly, I know, and not something I'm proud of either. It's funny though, isn't it? I work alongside dragons and yet the idea of joining my family for dinner without you is a task more daunting than battling a hundred Hungarian Horntails.

Harry Potter

The fact that you're dead is entirely my fault. I hadn't wanted anybody to die for me, and the idea of you or George dying was incomprehensible to me. You guys had taken so many risks before, why should life, the greatest risk of all, have been the one that took you down?

The reason you're not here has everything to do with me. Voldemort wanted me. Not you. Not Tonks. Not Lupin. Not my parents, and not Sirius. And yet, all of you fought alongside of me because I was the Boy Who Lived, The Chosen One. Voldemort wanted me and just me alone. And I was foolish enough to let you all fight a war that should have only been between me and him….

I've apologized to your mother numerous times, but she just won't accept it. I wish she would though, because it'd help abate the unbearable amount of guilt I feel when I see George—and the rest of your family— holding their breath when I walk into a room as if willing me to transform into you, and then your mother's arms will enclose around me, welcoming me once more into the makeshift family I've made for myself, showering me with the attention and love that should be yours.

Bill Weasley

As the eldest most responsible Weasley, I should have been more accountable when it came to you and George. Simply put, I shouldn't have let the two of you fight in the war, though I know that wouldn't have gone over well. Although Mum and Dad were allowing those of us who were of age to fight in the battle, I, as the eldest and most responsible Weasley, should have advised against it. You and George had too much to lose. The joke shop, Mum, Dad, each other—and who was going to make fun of Percy if either of you didn't make it?

I wasn't a very good brother, Fred. Not like I should have been. Because any other brother wouldn't be able to carry on like I have. Had kids like I had, laughed without you like I frequently did, and above all, tried desperately to forget the image of you lying, stiff as a board on the floor of the Great Hall.

I, as the eldest and most responsible Weasley, should have been a better brother. A better brother wouldn't have tried so hard to forget you. A better brother wouldn't have looked upon your dead body with scorn, but, really, how could you be dead? Upon seeing your lifeless body, a better brother would have admired your courage. A better brother would have been more like you.

Ginny Weasley

I was not supposed to fight. But I did, anyway. You, who had fought so valiantly against the spells thrown at you by Death Eaters, had lived up to the Weasley name and proved what it takes to be in Gryffindor. But that didn't mean you were supposed to die.

I've listened to countless people say it had been for the "greater good." But that didn't make sense to me at all. What good was there? Sure, we were without the Darkest Wizard ever to roam the land, but we were also without you, and suddenly we were unable to see the humor in things that otherwise would have been funny, and the idea of a Voldemort-free world seemed more daunting than a world where he was still alive, and terrorizing all those who dared to cross him. It felt more like a burden than a blessing. Tell me, what good was to come of that?

I was not supposed to fight. You were not supposed to die. You were not supposed to leave us the way you did. We had all been counting on you and George, when the war was over and the dust had settled, to join Peeves in another round of "Voldy's gone Moldy." _That _is what should have happened.

You, Fred, should not have died. Not when you had a family, and friends, and so many people counting on you to bring smiles to their faces. Not when you had so many reasons worth staying alive for.

Hermione Granger

Logically, the idea of you dead simply did not make sense. Logically, you should have survived, despite the fact that in war no one really is safe. Logically, the end of your life should not have come so soon. You and George had risked so many things before. You'd risked expulsion too many times to count. You'd risked all that money at the Quidditch World Cup on a bet that seemed unlikely to ring true. You'd risked the comfort of a family when you and George began toying with the idea of opening a joke shop. And you'd risked answering to the Ministry when you and he jumped on the backs of your brooms and set off countless Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz Bangs right under Umbridge's nose. So when it came time for you to finally risk it all, a risk you and George were prepared to take, it seemed highly unlikely that either of you would be profoundly affected by it. The two of you had escaped any serious injury before, and in the event that an injury befell one of you, you were always cracking a joke that rivaled the gravity of the circumstances.

Logically, you should be here with us, celebrating the joyous occasions that were supposed to already have happened to you, like your thirtieth birthday, or your marriage, or the birth or your first child, but instead we're here celebrating these milestones with a guilty conscious.

"The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death." It's a notion that supports the belief of an afterlife. And though, I'd grown up firmly believing otherwise, I've since come to accept the idea even though it defies all logic. Some things just don't make sense. The death of you, Fred Weasley, taught me that.

Ron Weasley

When I heard Peeves singing that song "Voldy's Gone Moldy," I'd laughed out loud, and the sound seemed so foreign to me, that I'd clamped my mouth shut in such a hurry that I'd bitten my tongue and suddenly all I could taste was blood.

I shouldn't be laughing in a time like this, though it seemed like something you would have made a joke about. "How could you be laughing?" You would have asked, incredulous. "What could possibly be so funny? I'm _dead _you know!"

The whole thing seemed fairly ridiculous. What was wrong with me? How could I possibly think of laughing when my family stood staring forlornly at your broken body, as if willing it to move? Even you or George, who had found plenty of humor in remarkably dire situations, would have been disgusted at the disrespect I was showing—or would you have considered it respect, me laughing? The thing is, with you gone, I'm not sure of anything anymore. Even with the promise of a world ridden of You-Know-Who, the threat of an imperfect society still reigned free because you were not there to combat the reconstruction period with the many laughs we had thought would rip so regularly through the hot summer air, but as it turned out, we had not heard at all.

Instead the only sounds we heard were the regular sounds of life, but there was a strain to our voices as we tried to come to terms with the fact that you would not come trampling down the stairs when dinner was ready no matter how many times Mum said George's name when it should have been accompanied with yours.

Molly Weasley

My worst fear had always been losing one of you. I'd always thought you'd come to realize the joy of having children, and therefore understand the threat of losing one of them, but that wish for you, and indeed the daunting amount of worrying it entails, can no longer be realized. My fear's certainly been heightened since your death, for I know it doesn't take a war to kill someone, and your sister Ginny nearly died as well….It would be foolish to say that my fear has changed, for a mother will always worry about her children no matter how well off they become. But my greatest fear has altered somewhat.

How will we all fare after the initial shock of you leaving has worn off? And how long will that take? Will George ever smile again? Will Percy stop waking in the middle of the night screaming out your name? Will we ever be okay again?

After Bill and Charlie had left the Burrow to pursue their careers, I'd made the mistake of worrying less about them. They were adult's after all. They could take care of themselves. I thought I'd feel the same after the shock of your death had worn off. Indeed, I was so worried about your father, and Ron, and George, that for awhile I didn't worry about you. But then I thought how much of a bad mother that made me, and suddenly I was wondering helplessly, if wherever you were, you were okay. If perhaps, you were safe. Safer than you had been in the comfort of my arms when you were just a child.

George Weasley

There will be a time when all of this will fade. There will be a time when I'll forget the sound of your laugh, and it won't hurt so much to smile, but that day isn't today. There will be a time when I'll stop eyeing the empty spot at the dinner table where you should be sitting, or when I'll stop staring at the bodiless bed across the room where nights ago you would have slept. But that day isn't today.

There will come a day when Mum will be able to look me in the eye, and see me, instead of the ghost of a man that used to be her son. There will come a day when Dad will stop shutting himself up in his shed, pretending to tinker with his Muggle artifacts, and Percy will stop burying himself in work to escape the thought of you.

But that day isn't today.

There will come a time when Harry will stop blaming himself for your death. There will come a time when Ron and Hermione will stop holding hands under the table to keep from breaking down. But neither of these things will happen today.

And Ginny's anger will wear off soon. And Charlie will stop avoiding spending the holidays with us, and Bill will stop believing he should be awarded the Worst Brother of The Year Award…But none of that will happen today either.

And of course, the time will come when I'll learn to live without you, though I'd expect that to take nearly a lifetime to get used to. I'll learn to accept the fact that my laugh will no longer carry like an echo, and that my thoughts won't be mirrored simply with a mischievous look… There will come a day when I'll get to experience the things you otherwise would have been experiencing with me, weddings, and birthdays…

And because I'll get older, while you'll stay forever young, the day will undoubtedly come when I finally admit that, yes, Fred, you are the better looking one…And then of course, there will come the day that I too, will die.

And I will be reunited with you once more, and the two halves we made will suddenly make a whole. Our laughter will ring out as we make up for the lack of jokes we've not made together, and I'll no longer have to look over my shoulder to see if you are, indeed, just behind me, because you will once more be right beside me. Like it should always be.

But that day is not today.


End file.
